


all trapped in this fabulous show

by brookethenerd



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, High School, Light Flirting, Mean Girl, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22142596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: au based on someone gets hurt from mean girls on broadway (aka reader is a fallen mean girl)
Relationships: Robin Buckley/Reader
Kudos: 39





	all trapped in this fabulous show

The thing about reputation is that it leaves no room for complexity. You pile layer and layers on top of an insecure frame, acting as if you’ve overcome it when all you’ve managed to do is hide from it. Picking and choosing what breaks free, what is seen, and letting the rest sink to the sandy bottom. Carving until all that’s left is an agreeable physique, a perfect and composed person.

You’ve spent the last four years carefully constructing an image, sliding into popular and refusing to budge. Always put together, hair done, makeup flawless, outfits precariously chosen.

It was enough for a long time, being perfect. But the thing is, perfect doesn’t exist, and to reach it, you - and everyone else - have forgotten what came before. What rests underneath. Your reputation fell into other people’s hands, and they did with it what they wished, and you had no choice but to follow along.

Once upon a time, you were a person. Now, you’re an enigma, even to yourself. Once upon a time, you ruled Hawkins High. And then, inevitably, you fell.

You made it only a few feet into the cafeteria when the whispers started, and when you didn’t react, chin held high, a thousand-yard stare, their confidence and decibel count rose.

“He get tired of holding the bitch’s hand?”

“Melt, Ice Queen, melt!”

“Time for the king to find a new queen!”

Stupid, thoughtless taunts, ones you’d have tossed out carelessly a few days before. But now that you were on the receiving end, the words stung. You didn’t let it show, external armor intact, blindly grabbing wrapped food items, paying, and deserting the cafeteria in favor of something quieter and less antagonistic.

You’d had enough antagonism to last a lifetime, you decided. You’d been standing on unstable ground, and you hadn’t realized you’d been stomping until it gave beneath you.

The halls buzzed quietly as students slipped on and off-campus for lunch, others sitting on the ground against lockers. You pushed through the doors at the end of one hall to the back staff parking lot. It was deserted, save for a girl - Robin, a year below - sitting on a bench against the bricks, eyes closed, holding a walkman.

She looked so peaceful, head tipped back ever so slightly, wind dusting the light brown hairs against her cheeks. So unaffected by the battleground that was high school social circles. She was in band, which you only knew from seeing her at pep rallies, tucked up in the bleachers with her bandmates, and you hadn’t seen her outside of it. Likely because she ate lunch out behind the school by herself. But from the looks of it, she didn’t mind the solitude; maybe even enjoyed it, preferred it.

She opened her eyes, and you were forced to make a move or look obtuse, walking across the cracked pavement to sit at the other end of the bench. You set your food down, only now getting a look at what you’d bought: two burritos, contents unknown, a bruised apple, and an apple juice.

Robin pressed pause on the walkman and removed her headphones, looking at you curiously.

“Problem?” You asked, arching a brow. Her lips pulled thin, and she looked away, shaking her head.

“Just surprised to see you here, and not with the aristocracy,” she said. You snorted a laugh, looking over at her.

“Is that what you call us?”

“That’s the PG nickname,” she said, one side of her mouth quirking up. She was quite pretty, though you’d never noticed before. Or maybe you had and been so caught up with other things you didn’t realize it.

You inclined your head, mouth twitching into a smile.

“Well, I’ve been formally banished by way of general douchery and betrayal, so I don’t know if I can say _us_ anymore.”

“I heard,” she said, though she was acting like she didn’t; like she didn’t know or didn’t care. For all her tone conveyed, you could have been discussing the weather.

“Of course you did.”

“That’s gossip for you.”

“It sure is,” you said. You gestured to the walkman in her lap, a Van Halen sticker adorning the front. “What are you listening to?”

Robin lifted the headphones, and you leaned closer so she could hold them between you and pressed play, ramping up the volume, so the music spilled out just enough to hear.

“ _It’s my own design/It’s my own remorse/Help me to decide/Help me make the most_.”

Everybody Wants to Rule the World. Of course.

“Fitting,” you said, once the song finished and Robin set the headphones back on her lap.

“High school,” Robin said, “is _so not_ the world.”

“Feels like it.”

She nodded in a half concession.

“Sure fucking does.”

“How’d you get to be so wise? Is being a loner a requirement?” You asked. Hurt flashed across her face just as guilt rammed into you, and your cheeks heated. “I’m sorry. I’m…a bitch.”

“No, it’s mostly true,” she said.

“I think, at this point, I’d rather have no one than the people back there.”

“They’re not the nicest group.”

“No, they’re not,” you said. “But, I still care that everyone here hates me.”

“For the record,” Robin said, “I don’t hate you.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said, like, two minutes ago?”

“The loner thing?” You flinched, and her lips curved up. “Honestly, I’ve heard worse.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said simply, shrugging a shoulder and leaning back against the metal bench, “Just be better.”

“Sounds easy,” you said. She gave a mirthless laugh.

“Sorry, I hate to break it to you, but if you want real friends, friends who don’t talk shit about you behind your back, or sneak around with your boyfriend, or whatever the hell else you guys do, you have to do the same to them. You know, mutual respect, that kinda thing,” she said with a smirk.

“And would you be one of them?” You asked, holding her gaze. Her brows twitched, and you swore her cheeks went pink.

“I’ll think about it,” she said. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and you got to your feet, Robin tucking her things away. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you smiled and said, “See you tomorrow at lunch, Buckley.”

You didn’t miss the smile that tugged on her lips before you walked away.


End file.
